Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Thailand and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing La Düsseldorf to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Cure. All the underground hits.
All Matthew Halsall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every D'Angelo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
F. McDonald,
Kaleidoscope,
The Fall,
DJ Style,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Judy Mowatt,
New York Dolls,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bobby Womack,
The Golliwogs,
The Saints,
Rites of Spring,
The Sound,
Howard Jones,
Wire,
A Certain Ratio,
Idris Muhammad,
Throbbing Gristle,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Swell Maps,
Clear Light,
Stockholm Monsters,
Zero Boys,
John Foxx,
Q and Not U,
cv313,
Main Source,
Ponytail,
The Fuzztones,
The Music Machine,
Darondo,
The Blackbyrds,
Average White Band,
The Dirtbombs,
Dawn Penn,
Joey Negro,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Evens,
Pussy Galore,
Scion,
Underground Resistance,
The Stooges,
Theoretical Girls,
DNA,
Scrapy,
Flipper,
Sandy B,
The Gap Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Livin' Joy,
Sun Ra,
Skriet,
Neu!,
The J.B.'s,
Amazonics,
John Holt,
The Zeros,
Icehouse,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.